The Unsung Hero
by Sara Wolfe
Summary: Albus Dumbledore wasn't always a great wizard. Once, he was Ron Weasly.
1. Endings and Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, save those characters and concepts not appearing in the books. All else is the property of JK Rowling. The theory"Weasly is Our King"belongs to the lovely people at Knight2King, and they are the ones who inspired this fic.

**The Unsung Hero**

**Chapter One**

"Harry, behind you!" Ron yelled.

Harry whirled, confronting the Death Eater sneaking up from behind him. Ron watched, worriedly, for a second, as his best friend parried with the Death Eater, before hearing someone yell at him.

"Look out, Ron!"

Ron turned to see a menacing figure looming over him, but even as he stumbled backward in surprise, the Death Eater fell over, stiff as a board, his arms glued to his sides and his legs locked together.

"Thank Merlin for the Full-Body Bind," Ginny told him, jogging over.

"Thank Merlin you were fast enough to cast it before I got killed," Ron said, relief evident in his voice. "Nonverbally, no less."

"Well, what are sisters for?" Ginny retorted, wearily.

"We're losing," she continued, softly, after a moment.

"I know," Ron said, looking out at the Quidditch pitch, which had become an impromptu battlefield during the latest attack by Voldemort's followers.

"It's going to take a miracle to get us out of this one," he said, quietly.

"We don't have a miracle," Ginny said. "All we have is us."

The siblings exchanged determined looks before striding back onto the battlefield, wands and heads held high.

Fifteen minutes later, Ron found himself fighting, yet again, for his life.

"Sectumsempra!" the Death Eater yelled, slashing violently with his wand.

Ron cried out in pain as gashes opened up on the side of his face. Blinded by the pain, he staggered, clutching his wand so as not to drop it.

"Ricter-rictersempra!" he gasped, pointing wildly and praying that he hit someone, anyone that was working for Voldemort.

Wiping the blood out of his eyes, he looked up to see the Death Eater who'd hexed him dancing in place, his legs twitching wildly.

"Die, traitor!" the Death Eater yelled furiously, raising his wand and trying to steady it despite the tremors running through his body.

"Levicorpus!" Ron snapped, whipping his wand upward.

The Death Eater soared into the air, his wand falling from nerveless fingers and hitting the ground soundlessly. Moving quickly, Ron snatched up the fallen wand and snapped it in two over his knee.

"Whoops," he said, grinning maliciously.

The Death Eater opened his mouth, but Ron hexed him into silence before he could say a word. Leaving him hanging helplessly in midair, Ron looked around frantically, trying to locate his friends and family.

Ginny fought back-to-back with Hermione, protecting Neville, who was crumpled on the ground, unconscious and bleeding profusely from a gash on his forehead. Luna huddled on the ground, nearby, trying to staunch the flow of blood with her wand. And Harry…

Ron found Harry battling Voldemort, who had deigned to make an appearance. The two were surrounded by a cage of golden light, which contained the spells the wizards threw at each other. Ron watched, entranced, as the two dueled. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw a streak of light strike the beams of the cage.

The golden light wavered, then died, leaving the inhabitants no longer surrounded-and no longer protected from outside attack. Seeing his opportunity, Ron ran forward, trying to reach Harry before anyone else did.

Suddenly, Voldemort sent a blast of green energy straight at Harry, and Ron's heart leapt into his throat as he recognized the Killing Curse in action. The light grew in intensity the closer it got to Harry, and Ron was momentarily blinded.

"No!" he yelled, fearing the worst.

Then his vision cleared, and Ron saw Harry kneeling over a figure lying prone on the ground. Voldemort was nowhere in sight.

"Where's You-Know—where's Voldemort?" Ron asked, nearing the pair.

"He fled after he cast the Killing Curse," Harry said, bitterly.

"It was headed straight at you," Ron said, confused. "How are you still alive?"

"Snape sacrificed his life to save mine," Harry told him, gesturing.

Ron looked down and, for the first time, focused on the man lying spread-eagle on the ground in front of Harry.

"Why?" he asked.

"Voldemort called him a traitor," Harry continued, quietly. "He was taunting Snape about thinking he was so smart, killing Dumbledore, when he, Voldemort, had known all along that they'd been working together to defeat him."

"What?" Ron demanded.

"Voldemort said that he'd known all along that Snape was a spy, and that he allowed him to live because it suited his purposes," Harry finished.

"He said that Snape was next, after he killed me. Then, the barrier went down, and Snape jumped in front of me. He took the Curse to save my life. He was working for us all the time, and no one knew. We thought he was a traitor to our side."

Oblivious to the fighting going on around them, Harry reached out and gently closed Snape's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, solemnly. "May you find the peace in your next life that was denied to you in this one."

"He deserves a hero's burial," Harry continued, after a moment, clambering to his feet. "Like the one we gave Dumbledore."

"He'll get one," Ron promised, casting a final, backward glance at the fallen body of the former Potions professor. "But, right now, we need to finish fighting."

"Let's go," Harry said, striding away.

Ron started after him, but was stopped short by a tall figure that blocked his path.

"Forget about me?" the Death Eater sneered.

"Well, that underwear around your ankles does look familiar," Ron quipped, feigning nonchalance.

The Death Eater looked down, involuntarily. While he was distracted, Ron whipped his wand into a guard position, backing up slowly to distance himself from the Death Eater. The Death Eater looked up, having caught onto the lie,a snarl growing in the back of his throat.

"You'll pay," he threatened, lunging at him.

He ducked out of the path of the spell Ron sent his way, wrapping his hands around the young man's throat. Ron choked, scrabbling at the Death Eater's hands, frantically, and succeeded in drawing blood.

The Death Eater released him, only to lash out viciously, his fist connecting with Ron's face. Ron felt his nose give way, even as he heard a bone snap. He stumbled backward, blood pouring from his nose, as he fumbled to find his wand on the ground.

"Not so fast," the Death Eater jeered, brandishing Ron's wand in his face. "Ah, the irony, to die by your own wand."

He gestured lazily, sending Ron flying head over heels to land in a heap. Ron tried to stand, but the Death Eater simply hit him with Cruciatus, causing him to writhe helplessly in pain. Then, he advanced on the fallen wizard, toying carelessly with the wand.

"This is going to be fun," he said.

Reaching up with one hand, he pulled off his mask. Ron gasped as he stared into the cold, merciless gaze of Draco Malfoy.

"Just thought you'd like to see the face of your killer, Weasel," Malfoy sneered.

Raising Ron's wand high over his head, he paused, dramatically. Then, he lowered it quickly as his lips moved to form a nonverbal spell. Ron stared in horror at the familiar green jet of light that arced toward him. Suddenly, Ron heard a voice cry out.

"No!" Percy yelled, throwing himself in front of his fallen baby brother, his only thought of protecting him.

The spell hit him, and his face contorted with agony as he fell. He landed on top of Ron who stared, horrified, at his brother. At the wide, glassy eyes, and terrified expression.

"No," he whispered, brokenly, reaching out to brush Percy's cheek. "Please don't be dead."

"Please don't be dead," Malfoy mocked, in a high-pitched voice. "Does the widdle Weasel miss his brother?"

"You killed him," Ron said, softly, staring up at Malfoy. "You murdered my brother."

"You're next," Malfoy told him, brandishing his wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

For the third time that day, Ron watched as the Killing Curse arced through the air. As the bright green jet neared him, Ron held his brother's body closer and waited for Death. Then, something snapped.

Power had been building up inside of him since the start of the battle, and now it burst out wildly, fueled by the murderous rage beating at his chest. The wild magic he generated struck Malfoy's carefully constructed spell, and time seemed to stop for a moment as the world held its breath. For a second, Ron thought he saw Albus Dumbledore's face smiling down at him.

Then, light filled Ron's vision as the world exploded.

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

Healer Elias Gantry, medi-wizard of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, glared at the student standing before him with barely concealed anger.

"What do you want?" he snapped, brusquely. "Can't you see I'm working?"

"Y-yes, sir," the student stammered, nervously. "But, I thought you should know that the stranger is awake."

"Thank you," Gantry said, standing. Striding briskly past the student, he snapped, "You can go, now."

He was faintly aware of the student fleeing in his wake as he swept into the hospital wing and approached the bed that held the young stranger.

"How are you feeling?" Gantry asked, standing over his barely conscious patient.

"Ungh," the young man moaned. "Hurts."

"I can give you something for the pain in a moment," Gantry said. "I just need you to tell me your name, first."

The young man moaned again, and his eyes unfocused, as he stared as something on the ceiling only he could see.

"Headmaster," he said, blinking slowly, his eyes finally focusing on the man standing above him.

"What's your name?" the medi-wizard repeated, insistently. "Do you remember?"

"Albus," the young man whispered. "Albus…"


	2. Diagon and Dumbledore

**Chapter Two: Diagon and Dumbledore**

"Albus? Albus, can you hear me?"

Ron slowly opened his eyes, and then groaned in pain as every tiny movement made his head throb with agony. For a moment, the world felt tilted, then he realized he was lying on a bed in Hogwarts' hospital wing.

"Albus?"

The voice came again, and Ron flicked his eyes towards the source. A tall, imposing man with long black hair and a short beard loomed over his bedside.

_'Why is he calling me Albus?'_ Ron thought, as he stared blearily up at the man.

The man peered back at him for a moment before looking across him to another man standing on the other side of his bed.

"Elias, is he awake enough to understand me?" the man demanded.

"I doubt that," Elias, drawled, "considering I told you he was incoherent when he first came to ten minutes ago."

"I thought he may have revived some since then," the man growled.

"He lapsed back into unconsciousness shortly after I sent Kent for you," Elias said, wry humor lacing his every word. "I would hardly call that reviving."

"Remind me again why I hired an impudent medi-wizard?" the man asked.

"Because I'm the best," Elias said, his tone now deadly serious.

"Ex-excuse me," Ron croaked, finally able to force words from his parched, burning throat.

Both men jumped, and looked down at him in surprise.

"You're awake," Elias stated.

"Water," Ron croaked again.

Elias nodded, and gestured briskly to someone standing behind him. There was a brief flurry of activity, and then a glass of water was pressed against Ron's lips. He drank greedily, but then the water disappeared.

"Your stomach cannot handle more than a bit at a time," Elias told him. "You may have more to drink in a few minutes."

Ron nodded in understanding and turned, questioningly, to the other man.

"Who are you?" he asked, able to speak easier now that the burning had been eased.

"I am Professor Phineas Nigellus Black," the man said, in the same imperious tone he'd used earlier. "I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is Healer Elias Gantry, our medi-wizard."

_'Headmaster Black?'_ Ron thought, incredulously, reminded of the portrait hanging in Sirius's-now Harry's-house. _'Something's not right, here.'_

"Wh-what's the date?" he asked, hoping the men wouldn't notice the tremor in his voice.

"August 30, 1858," Elias told him. "You've been unconscious for the past three days. It's not really that long," he added, misinterpreting the look of horror that flew over Ron's face.

"Albus," Black said, startling Ron.

_'Why does he keep calling me that?'_ he thought, irritated.

He let none of that show, however, as he turned to face the Headmaster.

"Yes, sir?" he said, as politely as he could manage.

"We need your last name, Albus" Black told him. "So that, perhaps, we can find out more about you."

_'I must have told someone at some point that my name was Albus,' _Ron realized.

"Your surname?" Black prompted, when he was silent for a long moment.

_'I can't let them know who I really am,'_ he thought, frantically. _'Not if I have any chance of getting back to my time without anyone finding out the truth.'_

"Percy," he blurted out, as his racing thoughts conjured an image of his brother. "My name is Albus Percy."

"Well, Mr. Percy," Black continued, "do you have an age you can give us?"

"Seventeen," Ron told them, seeing no reason to lie about this, at least.

"What do you remember?" Elias asked. "From before you woke up here?"

"I-I was attacked," Ron said hesitantly, trying to keep to the truth, even a little, so as not to mess up his story. "He stole my wand and used it to curse me, and then I woke up here."

"Curse you?" Black asked. "Do you remember what the curse was?"

"Avada Kedavra," Ron said softly, as the men exchanged serious looks.

"You survived the Killing Curse?" Elias demanded, incredulously.

"Not like you'd think," Ron said quickly. "Someone got-got in the way," he finished, choking on the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.

He scrubbed them away, harshly, trying not to dwell on Percy's death, and the life he'd been forced to leave behind.

_'I have to get back there,'_ he thought, desperately. _'Malfoy's not going to get away with murdering my brother.'_

"Well, whoever they were, you must have seemed dead enough, because they left you lying in the middle of Hogsmeade for us to find," Gantry informed him.

"Do you remember anything else?" Black asked, drawing Ron's attention back to the present.

"Not much, sir," Ron lied. "Mostly the attack."

"Well, that presents a problem," Black told him. "If you were younger, I would simply enroll you in Hogwarts, to ensure your safety while your memory returned. But, you have just told us that you are seventeen, and you cannot simply enter into NEWT level courses unprepared."

_'I can't leave Hogwarts!' _Ron thought, hysterically. _'It's my best chance at finding a way home.'_

"I do remember magic," he interjected, hastily, as Black looked at him. "Surely I could try to catch up with the other seventh year students?"

"It would be difficult for you to catch up in only two days," Black said. "But, the idea does have its appeal. Especially since keeping you here would prove the best way to keep you safe from the one who attacked you."

"I know if I remain here, he won't be able to touch me," Ron said, honestly.

"Very well," Black said, the imperious tone returning. "In two days' time, you shall ride the Express as a student and be sorted into one of our four Houses. Until then, I am placing you under the supervision of Professor Flamel."

He gestured to a man who'd been hiding in the shadows, and Ron gasped to see a man with sandy brown hair step into the light. Granted, he was younger than in the picture Ron had seen in _Magic Most Potente_, but it was undeniably Nicholas Flamel.

"Professor Flamel teaches Potions," Black informed him. "After Healer Gantry is finished with you, Professor Flamel will escort you to Diagon Alley, to purchase a new wand and to replenish your school supplies."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, relieved at this stroke of luck. "Thank you."

Black nodded briskly, and strode to the exit. Pausing at the door, he spoke without turning around.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Percy."

**XXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX**

Thirty minutes later, Ron stepped through the entranceway at the back of the Leaky Cauldron and entered Diagon Alley. Then he stopped suddenly, gaping, and Flamel ran into his back.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Flamel asked, chuckling softly.

"I've never seen anything like it," Ron said, awed.

And it was true. The Diagon Alley of his time was filled with frightened, anxious witches and wizards scurrying quickly from shop to shop, huddled in tight groups. People were always looking over their shoulders, fearing the worst at all times. But not here.

The Diagon Alley of this time had a light, carefree atmosphere about it. The people were bustling from shop to shop, laughing and talking cheerfully. Young children darted around; playing a game of wizard's tag, while their parents patiently stepped around them. Even the entrance to Knockturn Alley was less dark and foreboding.

"Ready to get your wand, Albus?" Flamel asked, breaking into Ron's reverie.

"All right," Ron said, absently as he followed Flamel, still staring at the sights surrounding him. Then, the professor's words sank in.

"Wait," he said quickly. "I don't have any money. How am I supposed to pay for my supplies?"

"Hogwarts' has a fund set aside to aid students who cannot pay for their own supplies," Flamel explained, patiently.

Ron felt his ears burning as he considered the implications.

_'I thought it was bad, before,' _he thought, miserably. _'But, I'd give anything to have even that little amount of money back.'_

"You'll have to settle for secondhand supplies, like schoolbooks and robes," Flamel continued. "I hope that's not too big a disappointment."

"No, sir," Ron muttered, feeling heat creep beneath his collar. "I'm used to secondhand things."

"You will have one new thing," Flamel said, tactfully ignoring his humiliation. "Our first stop will be Ollivander's."

At Ron's incredulous look, he continued, smiling.

"A used wand will be no good," he explained. "You will be best served with a brand new wand."

Gesturing, he led the way to Ollivander's, and Ron followed him into the dark, musty shop.

"Thiron!" Flamel called, peering around the shop. "Thiron, you have a customer."

Ollivander, a bare wisp of a man, emerged from the back of the shop, smiling enigmatically.

"Thiron, meet Albus Percy," Flamel said. "He's one of Hogwarts' newest students. Albus, this is Thiron Ollivander, the finest wand maker in Europe."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Ron said, shaking the proffered hand.

"Surely you're not here for your first wand," Ollivander said, studying him closely.

"Replacement," Ron said, sheepishly. "My last one was stolen."

"By the person who gave you those, I presume?" Ollivander asked, and Ron traced the scars that marked his face.

"Very well," Ollivander continued, briskly. "Nicholas, step outside, please. I want nothing to interfere with this young man's choosing of his wand."

Flamel nodded and exited, leaving Ron alone with Ollivander.

"How many wands have preceded this one?" Ollivander asked, taking Ron's measurements.

"Two," Ron answered, eyeing the measuring tape as it flitted around.

"Both new?" Ollivander asked, making a notation on a scrap of paper.

"One used," Ron said. "The other was new; fourteen inches long, ebony and unicorn hair."

"A good wand," Ollivander observed. "Try this one."

Ron accepted the proffered wand and waved it. Ollivander studied him critically, and then snatched the wand away, replacing it quickly with another. He went through half a dozen wands this way, with no luck.

"You're quite the tricky customer," Ollivander said, smiling happily. "No matter. We'll find the perfect wand for you."

Humming to himself, he went into the back of the shop and emerged with three more boxes, all liberally covered in dust.

"Let's see if one of these suits you," he said, handing the first to Ron.

Ron tried the first two, to no success, and then eyed the last warily.

"Go ahead and give it a wave," Ollivander encouraged. "If it's not the right one, we'll simply try more."

"I feel like I've waved every wand in the shop," Ron muttered, picking it up, nonetheless.

He waved the wand, tentatively, and then gasped as a feeling of warmth suffused his being. Light filled the shop, casting long shadows on everything it touched.

"I've never failed yet in fitting a wand to a wizard," Ollivander said, cheerfully. "And you'll not be the first.

"What's it made of?" Ron asked curiously.

"Ash and phoenix feather," Ollivander told him. "Quite a powerful combination. That will be thirteen Galleons, please."

"Here you go," Flamel said, removing coins from a pouch as he entered the shop. "Next, Albus, you'll need to get some robes."

An hour later, Ron and Flamel sat at a table outside Fortescue's, which in this time was an eatery, rather than an ice cream parlor.

"Are you satisfied with your purchases?" Flamel asked, as he speared a forkful of his salad.

"Yes, sir," Ron said, honestly.

Secondhand, they may have been, but the supplies were in nearly new condition. For once, he didn't feel embarrassed by what he owned.

"I must say, though," Flamel continued. "Those are some interesting socks."

Ron blushed, thinking of the half-dozen pairs of maroon socks he'd purchased at Madame Malkin's.

"I like maroon," he muttered, thinking of all the maroon sweaters and socks his mother had given him over the years.

"Professor Flamel," he said, after they'd eaten in silence for several minutes, "if the school year hasn't started, why are there students at Hogwarts?"

"Those students are upcoming seventh years," Flamel answered. "They are apprenticed to various staff members. Kent Diggle, whom you may have seen, is apprenticed to Healer Gantry, for instance."

"Do all teachers take apprentices?" Ron asked.

"Not all," Flamel told him. "Although, Headmaster Black is strongly encouraging those of us who haven't to consider it. Why so curious, Albus? Are you considering an apprenticeship?"

"I don't think I could be anyone's apprentice," Ron said, honestly. "I'm just hoping to make it through my classes."

"You have chosen a hard load," Flamel observed. "Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Herbology, and Astronomy would challenge any student."

"I like to keep busy," Ron said hastily.

Flamel nodded, and was about to say something more, when he spotted someone over Ron's shoulder.

"Aberforth!" he called out, gesturing, as Ron twisted in his seat to see who he was looking at.

A tall young man, with light brown hair and striking hazel eyes, waved and hurried over to their table.

"Hello, Professor Flamel," he said, smiling broadly. "Who's this?"

"Aberforth, I'd like you to meet Albus Percy," Flamel said, drawing up another chair with a wave of his wand. "Albus, this is Aberforth Dumbledore, one of my best students."

_'This is Dumbledore's brother?' _Ron thought, amazed. _'What happened to the illiterate goat-charmer he told us about?'_

"Nice to meet you, Albus," Aberforth said, cheerfully, as he sat down. "Will you be attending Hogwarts, as well?"

"We just finished buying my supplies," Ron said, indicating the myriad of bags at his feet.

"What classes are you taking?" Aberforth asked, curiously.

"The same as you," Flamel told him, "with the exception of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Hearing this, Ron was hard put to hide his smile behind his hand.

_'Too bad Hermione didn't meet him,'_ he thought. _'They'd get along famously.' _

Thinking of Hermione brought the faces of the rest of his friends and family floating through his mind, and he blinked back tears of grief and homesickness.

"He could stay with us," Aberforth said, suddenly, drawing Ron's attention.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"If you want to, that is," Aberforth said, turning to him. "I was just telling Professor Flamel that if you need a place to stay until the beginning of term, you could stay with me and my family."

"That sounds great," Ron said, grinning, feeling an instant kinship with Aberforth.

"Wonderful," Aberforth said, smiling at him in return. "My parents are always excited to meet my friends from school."

"Then, that's settled," Flamel said, heartily. "Now, if the two of you will excuse me for a few minutes, I have a few errands to run."

"We'll be at Quality Quidditch Supplies!" Aberforth called, as Flamel strode across Diagon Alley.

Turning back to Ron, his eyes twinkled mischievously.

"You do play Quidditch, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do," Ron said. "In fact, I'm offended that you even had to ask."

"In that case," Aberforth said, "I think this is going to be the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship."


End file.
